Wednesday Night's Mishap
by thoughtless dreamer
Summary: It's no question that Zexion hates Axel to whatever extent possible without the means of actually possessing a heart to hate with. However, this hate only increases if possible when Number VIII is actually right about something. Zemyx! Warnings inside.


It was no question that Zexion hated Axel

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Kingdom Hearts…but it may very well own me (I'm _certain_ that it owns at _least_ about 99 percent of my thoughts--yaoi fantasies included, of course).

Jessie: Summer's nearly here!

Joh: Which means _Otakon's_ almost here!

Jessie: Joh…Otakon isn't for nearly another three months though…

Joh: So?! We'll get to cosplay! I wanna cosplay, Jessie!

Jessie: **Gushes** I know--me too!

J Twins: **Squeal**

Jessie: Yeah, about this; it was, indeed, one of the few stories in quite a while that I got even an insty bit (read: utterly) embarrassed and sympathetic for the torture I was putting my favorite characters in. You know what that means, right? _Enjoy!_

**Warnings**: The downright humiliating event of the interruption of one on one's self. And if you don't understand now, it'll be all too clear while you're reading, lovelies!

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It was no question that Zexion hated Axel.

No, scratch that.

It was no question that Zexion hated the fire wielder to whatever extent was possible without the means of actually possessing a heart to hate with.

But this was especially so whenever Number VIII was actually right about something.

The Superior's missions, an exhausted Schemer had to reluctantly agree as he made his way down the hallway towards his quarters (at hours that neither any living being _**nor**_ pseudo-being should be awake), indeed seemed to be nothing more than purposeless nuisances.

_Really_—Zexion just didn't seem to connect how chasing after the irritatingly elusive White Rabbit of Wonderland (and that lovely mission had only been assigned to him because he was the only one able to keep up, due to his keen sense of smell) could be in any way relevant to achieving their goal of obtaining Kingdom Hearts.

Although it had to be just this one occasion, Zexion assured himself crossly. Had it been anything else, he would not have had to suffer the embarrassment of the discovery that his point had been proved otherwise.

Speaking of the idiotic fire mage…

Zexion glanced up to grace said neophyte's bedroom door with a sullen glower.

"Ngh—Oh, G-_god_…"

Zexion found himself stopping just as he passed by the door, only just catching the nearly inaudible yet definite sound of Axel's voice.

It was rare to hear the redhead so subdued; even rarer to hear him stutter, what with his cocky attitude and all--save, of course, when he was around a certain newest blonde member whom he pined hopelessly after…

And eager as he was to let the happenstance go and return to his room to settle into his bed with a good book, Zexion found himself cursing his inquisitive nature as he was slowly drawn closer to the door.

"A-ah…R-Roxas--"

Zexion frowned as his keen ears deftly picked up the Key of Destiny's name. This didn't even begin to make any sort of sense, as Zexion was sure that said blonde was in his own room, judging by the faintness of the scent of the beach as compared to the nearly overwhelming smell of charcoal and cinnamon.

But who else could Axel be addressing? Confused beyond belief at this point, Zexion leant in until his ear was nearly pressed against the door.

His frown deepened as he registered even more foreign sounds from inside. Axel was no longer saying anything near comprehensible—just a constant murmur frequently interrupted with a hitch of breath or a whimper. Upon further contemplation, Zexion abruptly realized that no, Axel wasn't saying anything _unintelligible_ per se; merely moaning Roxas' name like a mantra.

Oh.

_**Oh.**_

Zexion uncharacteristically flushed a deep shade of red as he finally registered how lewd a situation it was that he had stumbled upon (albeit a mortifyingly characteristic one of that bastard).

Zexion hastily summoned a dark portal, very nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed to step through.

A rather loud, last desperate moan of _"ROXAS!"_ that followed him through, however, succeeded in surprising the scholar to the point of stumbling over the hem of his cloak as he hurried through.

Zexion staggered gratefully into the safety of his bedroom with his face burning, trying desperately to remember how to breathe again. He pressed his hands over his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath as he vainly attempted to compose himself.

A full minute later he let his hands drop back down to his sides as he walked stiffly over to his bed to sit down. Distantly, he stripped himself of his cloak and clothes, carelessly letting them crumple into a heap at the side of his bed before collapsing face first into his pillow, its cool texture welcome against his hot face.

Only then did he finally allow himself to let out the loud groan of despair that had been welling up in his throat ever since the reality of the embarrassing circumstances had finally hit him.

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"Well, well—look what the cat dragged in. Hey, what happened lil' dude? Didn'cha get any shuteye last night?" Xigbar joked amiably as Zexion finally made his appearance at breakfast the next morning.

A full hour late.

Although the Freeshooter _did_ have good reason to inquire as to his appearance this morning, Zexion admitted to himself grudgingly. Sleep? He'd gotten close to none last night after what he'd deemed Wednesday Night's Mishap. In reality, he had been too busy repressing the horrifying memories to fall asleep, and so far he'd actually only thought of the incident seventeen times so far this morning; roughly around fifty-two times less than he'd thought he would have by this point.

The result? Zexion probably _did_ look like something the cat dragged in-- he sure _felt_ like it. It was no surprise that Xigbar was startled by his appearance this morning (or an oddly concerned-looking Demyx for that matter), seeing as they were much more accustomed to his usually pristine appearance.

Oh well, at least being annoyed at Number II took his mind off of last night accident…

Unfortunately, all it took was one glance at Roxas calmly eating his cereal (blatantly ignoring the simpering redhead beside him) for the memory of last night he'd worked so hard to forget for the past few hours to come back into glaringly sharp focus.

Zexion lowered his head in a vain attempt to hide his blush as he silently sat down at his spot at the table.

"It's good of you to join us at last this morning, Number VI," Xenmas greeted somewhat sardonically from where he sat at the head of the table.

"M-my apologies, Superior; I overslept," Zexion said quietly, absently rubbing his temples.

"That much was evident, Six. I trust it was due to your late arrival back from yesterday's successful mission?"

"Of course, Sir," Zexion replied quickly, lifting his head now that he felt the color leaving his cheeks at last.

Satisfied, Xenmas promptly began a long-winded speech about his reasoning for the decision to double the amount of missions each member of the Organization was expected to complete—which Zexion was fairly certain that Numbers VIII through XIII paid the last bit of heed to, judging by the equal looks of boredom on their faces…

And of course he _just _had to notice the exceptions to this observation—both Roxas and Demyx were steadily growing a deeper shade of pink with the effort of containing their laughter as Axel stealthily mimicked the Superior.

As he quietly watched the trio from behind the veil of hair that hid his wandering gaze from view, the true motive for Axel's seemingly foolish antics struck Zexion so abruptly he felt like smacking himself for not having seen it before.

It was all too clear after last night that the pyromaniac's mockery wasn't merely for the entertainment of his two friends—heavens, no. Axel's ultimate motive was to obtain his beloved "Roxy's" attention by any means necessary, even if that meant making a fool out of himself.

The attention he so desperately wanted to the point of obsession, if last night was any indication.

"--xion? Yo, _Zexion!_"

Zexion gave a slight start as he registered someone addressing him, and glanced up to see a mildly worried-looking Xigbar staring at him expectantly.

"Yes--what is it Number II?" Zexion hastened to reply. Xigbar narrowed his good eye at the slate-haired Nobody, and looked like he wanted to say something but paused before letting out an amused (albeit exasperated) sigh as he plopped a large pile of papers on the table in front of the younger Nobody.

"Here's your next assignment, 'Zo. Lucky you--the Sups took pity on ya after realizing he'd handed you a mission where there was actual physical exertion involved and assigned you a research project to last the remainder of the week," Xigbar grinned, chuckling at the irritated scowl he received as the scholar realized that Xigbar was, once again, addressing him by his Other's much-hated childhood nickname (the named itself was created by none other than Braig).

"But seriously dude, maybe you should think about taking a nap—you really look like you need on," Xigbar advised him warily as Zexion poured himself a cup of green tea.

"Thank you, Number II, but I'd really best be going to the library, if the news of a research assignment meant to last the entire duration of a week is any indication," Zexion replied coolly, slowly rising from him chair to open a dark portal. Xigbar shrugged and, snatching one last biscuit from the basket nearest him, he walked out of the room through the large, open doors to the dining hall that lead to the room he'd claimed for his target practice.

By means of the ceiling, of course.

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Zexion was ready to accept any and all responsibility for the accident that occurred roughly one minute later to his leaving the dining hall—after all, he couldn't have expected to get that far without some further catastrophe, what with his dreadful spell of horrible luck that day.

But it seemed the victim of the crash felt otherwise.

"Ohmigawd, Zexion, I'm _so_ sorry—"

"Number IX, it's fine, it was my fault entirely—"

"_No_, it was _me, _I'm so _clumsy_, I-I should've looked where I was _going!"_ Demyx wailed from where he was (still) seated (from where he had fallen) on the floor, seemingly oblivious to Zexion's reassurances as he hastened to pick up what had, mere seconds ago, been a tidy stack of papers cradled in Zexion's grasp.

And then the Cloaked Schemer turned a corner.

Causing him to collide directly into the Melodious Nocturne, by the sounds of it; in reality he still had to actually look up from where he was quickly sorting the scattered papers once more. It was only when he was finished with the papers that surrounded him that he looked up at last to offer a small smile of thanks to the blonde musician who was holding out the rest of the papers for Zexion to take.

And, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, Zexion's confidence faltered abruptly.

"Demyx, what on earth are you _wearing?_" Zexion blurted out before he could stop himself, gawking--_no_, Zexion _Did. Not. Gawk_--staring at the sitarist's choice of clothes for that day in open bewilderment.

Demyx stared back with an expression of shock that very nearly rivaled Zexion's own, before glancing down in confusion at his outfit.

"Oh, this? Uh, ya see, uh, me 'n Axel didn't get any assignments today, so we wanted to go hang outside the castle, and…well, you know we're allowed to wear whatever we want when we hang out in Twilight Town so long as we don't give away our identities," Demyx explained, sounding oddly pleased with Zexion's reaction.

"And _that's_ what you call _outing_ _clothes_?" Zexion wanted to ask very badly, but managed to hold his tongue as he chose to warily take in Demyx's outfit instead.

Of course he knew that Demyx's Other had been a teenager when he'd made the metamorphosis into a Nobody—_anyone_ could tell at least _that_ much—but _still_… these clothes looked like something one would expect to see in _Axel's_ wardrobe rather than that of the (was it only _seemingly?_!) innocent blonde's.

Truth be told, the water-elementalist looked like he was dressed for a rave rather than a casual outing. Demyx wore a form-fitting, long-sleeved black fishnet top over a black tank top (exposing much, _much_ more skin than the Organization cloak would have ever permitted), along with dark, tight jeans.

Oh, and his hair was out of its usual mullhawk. Instead, it seemed the boy had foregone the use of gel today, and the dirty blonde strands gracefully splayed about his neck and shoulders instead.

And then those _eyes_ were _staring at him_. Demyx must have applied some eyeliner or _something_, because they seemed even more shockingly bright than usual.

And Zexion--for the first time since he couldn't remember when--found himself absolutely speechless.

Demyx seemed to loose some of his previous confidence, as he began to fidget uncomfortably beneath Zexion's scrutiny. His lips parted as if to say something— _Kingdom Hearts;_ was he wearing_ lip-gloss?!—_but just then was interrupted with a "Yo, Dem, what the hell's taking you so long?" from across the hallway. The two (still-seated) Nobodies both turned their heads in surprise to see Axel tapping his foot impatiently as he leant against the wall (dressed in similar clothes—but that sort of attire was to be _expected_ of Axel, never _Demyx…_).

But when Axel noticed Demyx's company, a look of understanding passed over his face—though it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, a smug smirk quickly replacing it.

"C'mon Dem, quit messing around with _Zexy_ over there and get your ass over here," Axel teased, nodding his head toward a dark portal he'd opened beside him.

Demyx flushed a becoming shade of pink (whether from embarrassment or anger, Zexion wasn't quite sure) but obediently got up, pausing only to stuff the remaining papers that Zexion had yet to take from his possession, helping a unsuspecting Zexion onto his feet before jogging over to where the smug-looking redhead stood, gracing him with a glare (which was more of a pout than anything, really) as he stomped through the portal, a snickering Axel following suit.

Another full minute passed where Zexion stood in slight befuddlement, still gazing after where the two teens had previously disappeared, before a blush of his own crept onto his cheeks.

"What's with the juvenile _nicknames _today?" Zexion growled softly to himself as he steadied the papers in his arms once more before continuing towards the library.

And yet, even as he settled into his favorite spot in the library with his papers spread out before him, he couldn't seem to pull him mind from the subject of _Demyx, Demyx, Demyx…_

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Zexion was once again, much to his extreme displeasure, wrong about something. Although he was admittedly grateful that at least this time he wasn't being proved wrong by some imbecile…

Zexion didn't suffer bad luck for the rest of the day after Wednesday Night's Mishap.

No, his misfortunes continued throughout the remainder of the week. And they all seem to be connected to two small distractions of his; one being his inability to get past the Mishap itself. The other being Demyx.

That's right, _Demyx. _"Number IX"; "The Melodious Nocturne"; "Dem" if you were Axel or Roxas; "Demykins" if you happened to be either Marluxia or Larxene. And inexplicably hard to get out of your head, if you happened to be one (as of late, rather perplexed) Number VI.

But as to why he couldn't stop thinking about the cheerful artist, he couldn't entirely say. The only thing that Zexion knew was that he simply couldn't seem to get the image of Demyx's striking appearance from Wednesday out of his head.

And to make matters worse, Zexion was quickly becoming much more wary of Number IX's presence. Really—how was he supposed to get his subordinate out of his head when the musician seemed to be everywhere he went? And the effect that the blonde was having on him lately didn't help any, either. The lightest brush against the taller Nobody's form as they passed would send entirely unnecessary tingles up his spine. The sound of his voice and laughter never failed to earn Zexion's attention despite his determination to ignore it.

But the worst possible interaction between the two for Zexion was making any unnecessary eye contact.

Because Zexion didn't _want_ to notice how much _feeling_ was in the boy's ocean eyes when their gazes happened to meet.

Because he didn't _want_ to realize just how much more often than not Demyx's gaze wandered to him no matter where they were.

And because, most of all, he didn't _want_ to mistake that warmth that never failed to fill Demyx's gaze whenever their eyes met for something that…something that was entirely impossible.

Really—none of the rest of the members of the Organization appreciated just how much self-control was necessary to keep up his nonchalant façade.

So the Schemer did the one and only thing he could think of to try and control his ridiculous…well, "feelings," for lack of a better word (indeed, he had flipped through his beloved lexicon in a panic for _hours_ one night in a vain attempt to find a better suited word). He settled for stealing his own glances at the water-mage, as well as actually returning Demyx's smiles with small ones of his own when they passed--the sitarist's expression when he'd returned Demyx's amiable grin for the first time was absolutely _priceless_.

However, Zexion came to realize very, very quickly that these small indulgences he allowed didn't come anywhere close to being enough to satisfy him.

More specifically, satisfy him physically.

No, Zexion was forced to recognize this when, one night, he awoke from where he had fallen asleep on the desk in the library where he had been working with a name on his lips. As well as one newer problem he'd never quite had to worry about before.

His face, still flushed from his dream, reddened even further as he quickly recalled the details of his fantasy. Which starred none other than Demyx, to his utter mortification.

Unfortunately, recalling the details of his dream had more effects than simply his mortification, and he groaned aloud into the nighttime silence of the library.

Biting his lip, he tried to come to a decision of how exactly he should try and remedy the situation, shifting slightly as he struggled to think rationally through his discomfort.

Which was worse—breaking from his studies to return to his room to take a cold shower (possibly waking up his neighbors Numbers V or VII), or seeing Demyx at breakfast the next morning afterwards knowing full well what he'd done mere hours prior?

But the mere thought of Demyx in the state he was already in unintentionally caused his body to react in such a way that quickly convinced Zexion to _immediately_ handle the problem.

For one appalling moment, however, which very nearly made him decide otherwise, the only thing he could think of was_ 'Oh, dear Kingdom Hearts, I'm turning into Axel.'_

Yet he managed to push this rather horrifying thought out of his head in favor of taking one last, shuddering breath as he slid his trembling hand beneath the elastic of his boxers.

He gasped loudly in relief at the touch, and hastily brought his other hand to his mouth to bite down on to muffle his voice—knowing full well how slim the chances were of one of his fellow members walking in on him were in the middle of the night (and what's more, in the _library_), yet no less terrified of the prospect.

Zexion closed his eyes, biting down harder on his fist to stifle a loud moan that rose in his throat and threatened to escape his lips as he finally--_finally!!_--picked up a slow rhythm.

Lost in the unfamiliar sensations he hadn't experienced since his Other's boyhood, Zexion unconsciously let his hand fall from his mouth as his head tilted back in ecstasy, oblivious to the soft, desperate moans that fell from his lips every so often.

In the Nobody's hazy mind, the source of his pleasure was no longer being applied by means of his own hand, but rather that of a certain blonde Nobody he'd realized that he'd had a rather strong affinity for. It was with that one, coherent desire that the Schemer let out a moan of _"Demyx…"_ without thinking.

So of course he hadn't counted on the unexpected, agonizingly loving embrace he received from behind in response to his soft gasp.

Zexion would have probably fallen right out of his chair in his shock had it not been for the (surprisingly) strong arms that immediately snaked around his waist and held him upright. A warm body slid nimbly around his to settle behind him in the chair, efficiently arranging their bodies so that Zexion straddled his legs.

In any other scenario, Zexion would have immediately panicked. However, the suddenly overpowering scent of the ocean that was so undeniably _Demyx_ finally registered, and he found himself unable to make even the slightest movement, his sharp gasps for air piercing the otherwise overwhelming stillness.

And then Demyx's hand had found Zexion's, and began to move along with his own, and Zexion had thrown his head back against Demyx's chest, his breath hitching almost painfully.

Zexion became distantly aware that his lips were moving; repeating the same word over and over again although he couldn't quite understand what he was saying in his pleasured haze—he was quickly compelled to find out just what it was, however, when he felt the blonde behind him shiver as well as let out a whimper of his own. Only then did Zexion realize that it was Demyx's _name_ spilling from his lips.

"_Zexion,"_ Demyx moaned brokenly in response--and the sound Demyx saying his own name with such a lilt along with their combined ministrations proved to be too much for Zexion, as it sent the slate-haired Nobody over the edge.

Zexion slumped back into Demyx's ready embrace, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath after such an unfamiliar, passionate exertion.

The Schemer froze as he felt a soft kiss brush against the nape of his neck, and the flush that had been slowly draining from his cheeks returned full force as the reality of the events finally hit him—much like that of Wednesday Night's Mishap.

"D-Dem-yx, I-I-" Zexion stuttered hastily, before being effectively cut off by a soft kiss from a more than slightly amused Demyx. Immediately Zexion melted into the kiss, eternally grateful for Demyx's apparent lack of a desire for an explanation.

So if this was where jerking off with a certain Organization member in mind got you… maybe Axel _did_ have the right idea of things. It would _definitely_ provide reason for the almost alarmingly sated expression Axel wore a few mornings ago, as well as the slight gait in Roxas' step (not to mention, the uncharacteristic blush and uncertain silence when Demyx had questioned him about it).

But only just this once, because…you know.

It was no question Zexion _hated_ Axel.

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Jessie: I'm just going to take this opportunity to apologize, everybody (especially you, Zexy, 'cause I know you'll be reading this…**Insert** **sheepish laughter**). It's just… y'know, June 6th? 6/6? I couldn't resist!

Joh: But Jessie, that's so like you!

Jessie: … **Blushes**

Joh: Heheh--awww!

Jessie: Um, so…yeah, I'm somewhat surprised at how _long_ this story got in the span of two days' writing, buuut _that's_ okay!

Joh: Of course. Now go read my storrry!! **Jumps up and down**

Jessie: Alright, alright! And that goes for the rest of you! Go read the latest chapter of my twiny's lovely RikuxSora story "Wish!" It's AWESOME. Believe you me. -**End Shameless Plug-**

_**Please Review**_


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